Bigger on the Inside
by asarahworld
Summary: One-shots about various incarnations of the Doctor and/or his various companions. This will be updated as I get inspiration.
1. That Which We Call a Rose

"That which we call a rose/By any other name would smell as sweet"

~ William Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

He'd known it would happen one day. Meet someone with the same name as a previous companion. He just hadn't expected it to be _her_. Rose Tyler. He had felt something spark in deep in his chest cavity the first time she told him her name. And he hadn't counted on growing so close to her either…

Susan Foreman. _Arkytior_. His beloved granddaughter. Filled with the same child-like wonder as he, outcasts in their family, stuck on the same planet as he, until they had stolen the TARDIS together. Exploring the galaxies, eventually finding a small, out-of-the-way planet called 'Earth'. She had insisted on attending their 'high school' and of course he had given in to her. Looking back, he supposed that was one reason most of his companions were of Earth. In a roundabout way, Arkytior had ensured that. Earth was where his life had truly started.

And Rose Tyler. She had promised him her forever. A chance meeting; he blew up her job and she ran away with him. He had tried telling himself that she was just another stupid ape, but she wasn't. Underneath his snarky, hardened exterior, he found himself falling for her. Rose Marion Tyler. Defender of the Earth. Rose had healed him, psychologically, after the War. The Last Great Time War. He had walked away from his planet, only returning to… to destroy it. Coward that he was, he hadn't even had the courage to look his people in the eye before using the Moment to end the War. And then he met Rose. He didn't deserve her, not after the atrocious act he had committed. But somehow, she loved him back.

Rose Tyler. Arkytior. Two women he loved, two roses seared onto his hearts. Forever.


	2. Bedrooms

She keeps the rooms perfectly preserved, for though he has tried deleting them in various heats of anger and sadness, the TARDIS always restores them. Bedrooms can tell many tales of their occupant in their styles, colour, and furnishings. For the most part, they stay in their original place in the endless corridors. Should a Stray ever return, their bedroom lay waiting.

Sometimes a Stray finds the corridor of bedrooms, the handles of each door locked. They run their hands on the door and stroll down the hall, their curiosity warring with their desire to respect the privacy of their friend. But the only people who can open the rooms are the Thief and each one's specific occupant.

She keeps the rooms, not for the memories that they hold, not for the almost impossible return of their Stray, but for her Thief. For when the memories overwhelm him, he has always returned to this corridor. She tries to steer him to a room that will help him through his difficulties, yet fears that she sometimes hurts him more than she helps. Memories are painful, she learns, after her Thief has said goodbye to yet another Stray. He almost never opens the doors, staring mournfully at each of the names ingrained in the wood.

The amount of time he spends at each door varies, she notices. Sometimes he spends hours at the same door, else he paces the corridor with his hands grasping his hair and his eyes closed tightly.

Whether the rooms help her Thief, she'll never truly know.


	3. Imaginary Friends

"Do you have an imaginary friend?" The redhead turned to her friend suddenly. "I do, but he's not imaginary – he's real. I told Rory about him, but I don't think he believes me."

"Maybe," the blonde replied. "I don't know. I don't think he's imaginary."

"Me neither! What's his name?" She asked, careful to not be overheard by a grown-up lest they sent her to another shrink.

"He doesn't have one," the blonde screwed up her face in concentration. "Sometimes I see him sneaking into the house, but I've never told Mum that."

"I told my aunt once and they made me go to see a shrink." The redhead said quietly. "How long does yours stick around for? I only saw mine once, that's how I know he's real. If I made him up, he'd be here all the time."

"He's really old, like Mickey's gran. I saw him over the holidays, leaving the house. He wears some sort of suit. And then the next day, Mum was really happy. When I came down the hall, there was a pile of stuff under the Christmas tree!" The blonde beamed.

"Oh." The redhead was quiet for a moment.

"Mine's called the Raggedy Man. He fixed a crack that was in my wall and brought my parents back. I couldn't remember them before that, but nobody believes me. They told me my parents had been on holiday and that I stayed with my aunt for a week. But that's not what happened," she whispered dramatically.

"What'd he look like? He's real old. He looks a bit like a magician or something. His coat had tails," she giggled.

"He was sort of…brown. I don't know. His suit was all messy and I think it was burnt. That's why I called him Raggedy Man." The ginger whispered, her Scottish accent making the words sound harsher than intended.

 _August 2007_

Amelia Jessica Pond stared at the photograph on the wall sadly. Her friend was gone. A freak accident at Canary Wharf. Rose Marion Tyler was among the list of the missing, presumed dead. There was no trace of her friend or the family.


	4. 9-9

In honour of today being 9/9:

A broken man. A man born in the aftermath of the most violent War in the history of the universe. A man who was not a soldier, but rather an ex-soldier. A man who had fought in the War a lifetime ago, a lifetime that still lingered so close to his hearts. A man who knew next to nothing about himself, and yet was so hesitant to learn, to move forward. Could he ever call himself 'the Doctor' again? Having shed that title, for a Doctor heals people, when he ended the Time War, this man was now nameless. And he alone represented his people; he alone had survived. The world was a dark place and seemed to be able to turn even the most kind-hearted into monsters; yet he knew that he didn't truly believe that evil was the eventuality for every living being. A coward most of his life, only rising to show a new mask of confidence in front of his people and destroy them all.

He was so close to snapping, he could feel it in his bones. Failing to save his home, the Time Lord danced around fixed events, saving people when he could, never staying long enough to truly become involved. The tipping point was so near, he could see the exact events that would lead to Time Lord Victorious, the fire in his hearts blazing out of control. He needed to ground himself.

When he met Rose Tyler in a shop basement, a shop filled with Autons, the timelines shifted. He looked at this cosmically insignificant pink and yellow human and saw wonders. He saw people's lives change because of what she might do, if he had the courage (or the selfishness) to ask her to travel with him. Breaking his own rules, he asked her twice to run away with him, to see the stars. Of course, he never phrased it like that. Rose Tyler brought him back to being the Doctor. She taught him to see the beauty in his extraordinary life, to see that travelling the universe was a continuous stellar experience.


	5. A Brief Adventure

The Doctor ran around the TARDIS console, wincing as stray sparks flew towards him. His companions, ... sleeping... in their bedroom (having gotten rid of his super cool bunk beds) were unable to go on an adventure and, besides, he needed to make some repairs. Busy tinkering under the central console, the Doctor accidentally pulled a lever and groaned as the ship's engines wheezed to life.

He slipped his sonic screwdriver from between his teeth into his pocket and pulled himself out of the console. "Where are you off to, Sexy?" He whispered, resting a hand on the time rotor. The TARDIS, being a ship (telepathic, yes, but not able to properly communicate) did not answer. The door swung open (outward, was that a hint? He wondered briefly) and the Doctor stepped into the marshy grass.

"Hello?" He called. "My name is the Doctor. I'm here to help."

"You're a doctor?" A young man in ragged overalls approached. "Please sir, it's my wife."

"I'm not... What's the problem?" The Doctor, about to protest the assumption of a medical man, looked the anxious man over.

"She's having a baby," the man smiled. "Please sir, will you help her?"

A baby. The Doctor closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, briefly reliving the experiences of the 'birth' of his own children.

The Doctor belatedly realized that the man was staring at him expectantly. "Yes, of course. Lead the way Mr..."

"Tethnig, sir. Just Tethnig." Tethnig said amicably.

"And, if you don't mind my asking, Tethnig, what planet are we on?" The Doctor had narrowed his guess down to three possible planets, in three very different times.

"Kahler, of course, Doctor." Tethnig said incredulously.

"Of course," The Doctor beamed. Kahler. A planet, in the future, so riddled by war that the people had become the best builders in the galaxy. Always rebuilding.

The woman screamed. "I can see its head," the Doctor said encouragingly. "I need you to push now, Mrs. Tethnig." She screamed again, panting, straining against the bedposts. The newborn infant's cries broke the sudden silence. The Doctor picked up the child gently, and handed it to the father. "We need to birth the placenta," he said softly. Mrs. Tethnig pushed and it slithered away. He turned his attention back to the baby, preparing water to bathe it.

The Doctor led a dangerous life. He had accepted that long ago, shortly after he'd left Gallifrey. He'd seen people die in the most gruesome ways possible, yet he didn't regret any of his adventures. Because every now and then, he saved someone here, helped out there, and that made his life bearable.

He smiled, watching the new parents hold their baby, before slipping back to the TARDIS.

A/N: What's your opinion of Gallifreyan looms?

2\. Kahler is mentioned in A Town Called Mercy.

3\. I have no clue what happens during a birth. But these are aliens, so anything is possible.


	6. Spa Night

"We've got the whole of time and space and you want to stay onboard the TARDIS?" The Doctor asked his companion incredulously.

"Why not? I think we deserve a night in. Take a day off from saving the universe. Besides, time doesn't pass in the vortex, remember? We could have a lovely night in, and then go find trouble and be back in time for tea." Clara backed down the staircase, her eyes never leaving the Doctor's. "I've not got any marking to do and it's been a long time since we just relaxed together," she told her best friend.

"Clara," the Doctor protested. "Why would I want to stay onboard the TARDIS when there's so many adventures and new planets waiting to be explored?"

"Oh, come on. Doctor," Clara wheedled. "One night in. On the TARDIS. We could do a spa night in the library."

"I've moved the pool from the library, Clara. Silly place for a pool, a library." The Doctor shook his head, laughing faintly.

"Well, wherever the TARDIS put the pool, we could have a spa night."

"Or I could just drop you off at a spa, pop off for tea, and bring you back." The Doctor countered.

"Ooh, I'm starting to think that you might not want to have spa night, Doctor." Clara narrowed her eyes (which, in the Doctor's mind, was a relief, as they had been starting to enlarge).

"Spa. Boring. Too much hot air. If I wanted to unwind, I'd just go to the Zero Room," the Doctor said dismissively. "I'm not in there. Don't need to 'unwind'."

"The point, Doctor. You're missing it. Night in. Rest and relaxation." Clara's eyes were widening once more.

" _How_ do you do that?" The Doctor asked,

"Do what?" Clara asked, her ignorance of what her friend meant clearly evident in her voice.

"With your eyes," the Doctor gestured vaguely, before beginning to tinker with the console.

"Oh, you're impossible." Clara muttered. The lights flickered. "Are you agreeing with me?" She asked the TARDIS with amazement. The lights flickered again. "Two against one, Doctor," Clara sang. The TARDIS hummed her agreement.

"You can't just gang up on me. I'm the pilot." The Doctor protested. The lights flickered once more and the Doctor had the distinct impression that he was being laughed at. "I'm meant to be the pilot," he amended, and the console lit up. The Doctor went to input coordinates, but the TARDIS refused to accept them.

"Go." Clara commanded.

The Doctor surrendered, raising his hands in the air. "Yes, ma'am's," he backed out.

"Pool. Ten minutes," Clara called after him.

"Who needs ten minutes?" The Doctor walked back into the room, already changed to his swimming trunks.

"I do," Clara said firmly, "maybe more." She dashed off to search for her bedroom. Clara walked past the library, the kitchen, the wardrobe, the media room, a cricket club, the garden, infirmary… "Where did you put my bedroom?" She asked the TARDIS crossly. Without waiting for a response, Clara walked back up the hallway to the wardrobe. She quickly found a swimsuit, rolling her clothes up in a towel as so not to lose them permanently in the depths of the time-ship.

Clara was about to head to the library when she recalled the Doctor's comments about the pool moving. "Doctor," she called down the corridor. Receiving no answer, Clara went back the way she came, hoping to arrive back in the control room. She did not.

"Why do you always move everything around?" Clara huffed. The hall lights flickered. Clara thought that the TARDIS was laughing at her. "I thought we'd got past this," she told the ship tiredly. A door appeared to Clara's right. Cautiously, she opened it.

"What took you so long?" The Doctor looked down at Clara, before gracefully diving into the pool. "Thought you said ten minutes," he said as he surfaced.

Clara said nothing, instead choosing to cannonball into the water next to the Doctor.


	7. Not Today

The Doctor was old. Oh, he knew he didn't look it. He was your average looking bloke, physically maybe fifty-sixty in human terms. But spending four and half billion years inside a confession dial, that put a considerable amount of strain on one's body. At least, he thought grimly, this body had lasted more than a little longer than most. His ninth body had only managed a little over a year, his tenth not much longer than three.

Perhaps this was why most Time Lords spent their lives hidden away, secluded on Gallifrey. Why they didn't burn through regeneration after regeneration. The Doctor caught a glimpse of his face reflected in the scanner's screen. Lined and creased, with grey hair before he'd even broken it in. Not that that had stopped him – indeed, he'd continued running across the galaxy. He'd reunited with his oldest friend, and his oldest enemy. He was glad, in a way, that the Master had survived. They had gone through so much together, and him being dead had never felt right. Why he hadn't regenerated when he'd begged, he still hadn't a clue, but he'd conceded when she'd asked. He hadn't been entirely pleased to see her, but that was often how one felt when one's best friend continuously tried to kill them.

He would never be truly ready to regenerate. It had taken thirteen lives to realize this, but every life he'd lived, the Doctor had clung to it. He often made quick quips before the renewal, but that was a façade, as was every face and expression he afflicted. Last time he'd regenerated, it had been almost instantaneous, even from the perspective of a Time Lord. Of course, he'd been putting it off for so long that the renewal of his body, once it had been allowed to start, quickly overtook all and any other processes.

He didn't want to regenerate. He didn't want to change. But it was time. He remembered his thoughts from just before the last regeneration*, and scoffed. The words rang true in his mind, but yet hollow. They were meant to comfort his companion, and nothing more. The Doctor closed his eyes, and his hand tightened on the time rotor. Not today.

*We all change, when you think about it, we're all different people; all through our lives, and that's okay, that's good, you've gotta keep moving, so long as you remember all the people that you used to be.


	8. Blizzard

Winter fic bingo – blizzard

The snow was bitterly cold, piercing through the Silurian's bundled layers. A storm was brewing, a blizzard from the looks of the darkening clouds. At least there _were_ clouds precipitating _this_ snowstorm, Vastra thought, a memory eliciting a small chuckle.

Beside her was Jenny. Jenny, who was far braver than she when it came to braving the elements, though Vastra supposed that, as an ape, Jenny was better-suited to the chilled conditions than a cold-blooded Silurian such as herself. Vastra drew her cloak tighter, her breath condensing as she exhaled. The sooner she was home, the better – the last time they had gone out in this weather, it had taken two hours for her to feel warm once more.

"Come, my darling," Jenny took Vastra's hands between her own, rubbing them gently to increase circulation. Vastra hissed with pleasure; the warmth of Jenny's fleshy skin helped her rising temperature. Jenny smirked at her wife's reaction. "Not quite yet, dear. I fear that if I took you in the street, word spread through the town, and I dare say that it would not concern your 'skin condition'." Jenny raised Vastra's gloved hand to her lips.

"Home," Vastra muttered, the sound almost guttural.

"Almost, my darling." Jenny reassured her wife, her tone almost patronizing.

They huddled together in the hansom, having eyes only for the other. Snow began to fall outside the cab, and Vastra held her warm human wife closer.


	9. A Moment

Her lips are quick to capture his, and just as quick to leave. "You know he's going to go get himself into trouble if he gets out there before we do," Amy said, Rory snickering in agreement. The Doctor is old, but Rory yet to meet anyone as exuberant as the Time Lord. He grabs his and Amy's coats, which have just materialized on the railing, and follows his wife out the door.

"Thanks," he pats the side of the time-ship awkwardly, and the light on top gently pulses. Rory hurries away after Amy, after the Doctor, leaving the TARDIS far behind. He takes Amy's hand as they catch up to the Doctor, her coat still slung over the crook of his arm.

"Ponds!" The Doctor spins around, hands in the air. Rory sighs internally, having long since given up trying to correct him. They were the Ponds, at least when they were travelling through time and space with their enigmatic alien best friend and daughter. His daughter.

"Where is she?" Amy is already interrogating the Doctor.

"Oh, she'll be back." He replies lazily, flinging an arm around Amy's shoulder. His other arm flaps uselessly at his side, and Rory knows that if it had been the Doctor who caught up to himself and Amy that she would not be in the middle. He threads his fingers with Amy's and she squeezes his hand. The Doctor is going off about the world they've landed on, but Amy tuned him out and dragged Rory off to look at the horizon.

"It's nice. Really nice," Rory is quick to modify.

"It's quieter," Amy rolls her eyes, smiling. "It'll be ages until he realizes we're not behind him and I do believe, Husband, that he's not given us a moment alone since our wedding night."

"I'd have to agree with you, Mrs. Rory."

Amy laughs, kissing him. "Is that who we are, then? Mister and Missus Rory Pond?"

"At least this way you take one of my names," Rory deadpans.

"I love you." They kiss once more, hands dropping to their sides. Rory looks out to the alien horizon. The colours are bright green, completely foreign to his eyes. He savours this moment of quiet solitude with his wife, quiet until they hear the Doctor crashing towards them, alone until he runs past them, taking them both by the hand, flying towards the TARDIS.


	10. Well, you know what they say…

"Well, you know what they say…" Vastra trailed off at the ire in her wife's eyes.

"No, _my darling_ , I do not know 'what they say'," Jenny's were on her hips.

"All's fair in love and war?" Vastra offered.

"Are we having a war, then?" Jenny's eyes sparked. Vastra grinned, as much as a Siluran can grin.

"Are we at war? Why did nobody think to inform me?" Strax hurried into the parlour.

Vastra exchanged a look with Jenny, who sighed. "No, Commander. _We_ are not at war."

"You distinctly said that all's fair in love and _war_ ," Strax protested.

"And _you_ were eavesdropping on a private conversation between a lizard and her wife." Vastra retorted. "Now, my darling," she glared at the Sontaran.

"Very well. If anyone shall need me, I shall be preparing. To the glory of the Sontaran Empire!" Strax left the parlour, muttering to himself.

"Now, my darling, where were we?" Vastra purred.

"About to go to war, marm," Jenny replied, a devious glint in her eyes.

"So we were," Vastra circled around the younger woman, her eyes crinkled, her tongue slithering from her mouth.

"Aha! I knew that I'd heard that beautiful word!" Strax bounded back into the room.

"Strax!" The women cried in unison. The Sontaran looked at Vastra, then Jenny.

"Boy," he stared at her, "did I, or did I not, hear the word 'war'?"

"No," Jenny said firmly. "Now let us alone, for God's sake." Strax retreated. "Now, my darling," she kissed Vastra's neck, "let us do away with metaphors."

"I quite agree," Vastra ran her tongue down Jenny's dress, "you are _wet_ , my darling."

"I've been delayed, _my_ darling," Jenny continued to kiss her wife's scaly skin.

"I believe that I have just the cure," Vastra grinned, ferally, as she found her wife's sweet spot. Jenny gasped, clutching her lover's arms.

"I, love, you," Jenny said, snuggling close to her wife, post-coitus. Vastra pressed a soft kiss to Jenny's warm lips, pressing herself closer against Jenny's body.

"Good night, my darling Jenny."


	11. Thirteen

The Doctor stood in the TARDIS, shaken. Though regenerating had seemed to be smoother now, in the early stages of his second cycle, it still left him disoriented. _Right,_ he thought, possibly out loud, _time to take inventory_. The first thing he noticed was a height difference. His last few bodies, most of his bodies in fact, had been around the six-foot mark. This body was most definitely shorter. He ran a hand through his hair, noting that it was longer, possibly the longest it had ever been; he wasn't certain – after all, he had had fairly long hair early in his eighth body and he had stupidly concluded that he'd regenerated into a woman two bodies ago. His hair was blond, and he smiled. He'd had blond hair twice before, but this hair was smoother and felt much nicer to the touch. His hand moved down to his face. A sharp nose, smooth skin. A younger face. He wondered how long it would stay that way.

 _Wardrobe_ , he thought, cuffing his trousers and removing his too-large shoes. His hands were smaller as well, and the Doctor frowned. Getting used to a new body was never easy. Hands disappearing back under his jacket sleeves, shoes in hand, he made his way to the wardrobe to find some clothes that would fit this new body. Glancing into the mirror, he stopped.

So that was why he felt like a stranger in this new body. He raised his hands to his face and watched the woman in the mirror do the same. "Hello, Doctor," he said, and his voice was higher and the woman in the mirror spoke at the same time.

The Doctor stared at his reflection. Absently, he wondered what Rose would make of this. He hoped, perhaps rather foolishly, that she would approve – but then, hadn't he thought the same every regeneration since she'd left? He touched a hand to the mirror, and smiled. The face he now knew belonged to him smiled as well.

He hadn't been a woman before, and he wondered if he truly was one now. His mind felt the same as it ever did and he knew, from a multitude of studies on various planets, including Gallifrey, that how one identified their gender was in their mind. But if his brain chemistry hadn't changed, then perhaps, though he outwardly looked like a woman, he was still a man. Most Time Lords had changed sexes at least once (the Master came to mind immediately, followed by Rassilon), but he'd never come across anything that discussed gender identity in Time Lords. The Master had seemed to embrace her regeneration into a woman, seemingly without any of the questioning that he appeared to have. She'd worn dresses and corsets, with her hair elaborately arranged – but the Master had always had a flair for the dramatic.

He'd explore this, he decided. Right now, he still felt like the Doctor. And that was what mattered.


	12. Time Again

In a laboratory at the UNIT base, Doctor Elizabeth Shaw checked her part of an experiment involving the effects of something long-winded and practically unintelligible to the average person living in the late twentieth century. For someone who knew the Doctor, however, the experiment was a way to prove to him that the scientists at UNIT were – BANG!

Liz looked up to see black smoke pouring from inside the police box. She hurried to the door (it wouldn't do for the Brigadier to come in and see that she'd let the Doctor kill himself), and the Doctor leaned on her, coughing. He was muttering under his breath as she helped him to a chair. A dreadful noise sounded, a sort of mechanical wheezing, and the Doctor leapt to his feet, as much as he was able to leap.

"No," he cried rasply. Much to her surprise, a second police box appeared next to the Doctor's. A man stepped out of the second box, followed closely by a woman. The man was in the middle of explaining something, but he trailed off as he noticed his surroundings.

"Guessing this isn't Axos four then," the woman quipped. "Where are we? Wait, hold on, _when_ are we?"

The man grinned. "I have absolutely no idea."

The Doctor straightened. "Hello," he said civilly. "What brings you here?"

The other man looked at the Doctor, then his eyes wandered to the TARDIS, and finally landed on Liz. "Oh. Hello. Sorry, didn't mean land _here_. Must have typed in a one instead of a zero in the space-time coordinates and the TARDIS brought us here."

"A most fine excuse for crossing one's timeline, Doctor," the Doctor said, striding over to where the other man stood.

"Crossing one's timeline?" The woman asked. "Hold on, Doctor, are you here somewhere else?" _Doctor_? Liz thought. _That's completely impossible_.

"Here somewhere else?" The Doctor said, affronted. "I assure you, my dear, that I am the Doctor. The definitive article, of course."

"Okay, fine, yes. Okay, Martha Jones, meet the Doctor. Doctor, Martha Jones," the man in pinstripes said. His eyes lit when spotted her across the room. "Liz! Liz Shaw!" He sprinted over and enveloped her in an embrace. Liz stiffened.

"Hello."

"Hello," the man said cockily.

"Do I know you?" Liz ducked out of the man's arms.

"I should think so," the man said, wounded. "I'm the Doctor." Liz looked from the stranger to the Doctor.

"He's you?" She asked, incredulous. She could hear the other woman asking the other man the same question.

"Apparently," the Doctor replied.

Liz looked back at the new Doctor. "From the future?"

"Certainly not the past." An idea came to the Doctor. "Yes, I wonder…" And with that, he cut off his successor, asking questions about the Time Lords and his personal future.

Liz turned to the woman. "We may be here a while. The Doctor tends to technobabble quite a lot. I shouldn't wonder if he talks your Doctor's ear off. Shall we get a coffee…?"

"Martha. Martha Jones. Coffee sounds amazing, you would not believe the day I've had. Then again, you know the Doctor so maybe you would." She laughed incredulously. "Something normal will feel really nice."

"This way. I don't believe that they'll even notice we've gone." Liz led the other woman into the corridor.

"Who're you?" Sergeant Benton was at the end of the corridor.

"She's with me," Liz said calmly.

"Doctor Shaw, all due respect, only the Brigadier can approve guests on the base." Benton unclipped his radio. "'Benton to the Brigadier. Unauthorized guests in the Doctor's lab. Repeat: unauthorized guests in the Doctor's lab.' Sorry, miss, but I'll have to ask you to stay here, at least until you've been authorized by the Brigadier."

"She's with the Doctor," Liz looked at Benton, who stood his ground. Luckily, the Brigadier wasn't too far away.

"Benton, report."

Liz jumped in before the sergeant could say a word. "She's with the Doctor. He's in his lab. We're getting coffee. If you want to know more, go speak with the Doctor. I daresay he knows more about the situation that we do."

The Brigadier looked from Benton to Liz and nodded. "Shaw, Benton. Dismissed."

"We're just getting a coffee, sergeant. Would you join us?" Liz asked, more kindly. Benton declined, and the two women carried on.

"I suppose it's safe to assume that he somehow gets that box working again, in the future," Liz commented.

"I never even knew that the TARDIS could break," Martha chuckled. "How long's he been here?"

"Oh, about four months."

"He must be going spare," Martha thought about her Doctor, who never seemed to sit still.

"I suppose. He's always tinkering on that machine of his, unless the Brigadier sends him on assignment."

"Liz, when exactly are we? Yesterday, we were in Lake District around 1900. The day before, we met a dodo. Like, the extinct bird. And then we were in 1930s Manhattan.1"

"You're not telling me that that box really _is_ a time machine?" She shook her head. "I suppose if anyone's mad enough to invent a time machine, it would be the Doctor. It's March, the nineteenth, nineteen-seventy."

"Nineteen-seventy. I've not even been born yet, but I think this is the closest to home I've been in a long time." Martha's voice was slightly wistful, thinking of a home that did not exist. "So, what did you do before the Doctor turned up?"

"I _was_ drafted to be UNIT's scientific advisor. When the Doctor showed up, the Brigadier recruited him and, don't tell him this, mind, since he had greater experience _in the field_ , he took my job." Liz closed her eyes. "Or the job's been unofficially divided into junior and senior positions." Liz shrugged. "Could be worse, I suppose. They might have gotten rid of me altogether." She motioned to Martha to relate her story.

"I met him at work. The hospital was taken to the moon by space police rhinos. I'm a doctor, at least I will be if I ever take my exams," she chuckled.

"Medical, I assume?" At Martha's nod, Liz continued. "I studied medicine and physics at university, myself."

"Right, now we've got two proper doctors and two _Doctors_ ," Martha grinned. "That was really bad, wasn't it?" Liz nodded, pressing a hand against her smirk.

"Martha! Right, well, we're not going to tear a hole in the fabric of reality, and there's not a paradox. Well, not yet. Which is why we've got to go." The Doctor, Martha' Doctor, came jogging from the lab. He looked at Liz and smiled. "I hope you haven't told each other too many wild tales about me," he scratched the back of his neck.

"Well, actually, we didn't discuss you at all, did we Liz?" Martha exchanged a look with the other woman, who smirked.

"Of course not." Liz started back for the lab, followed by the Doctor and Martha.

Martha waved to Liz before stepping into the TARDIS. The Doctor put his hand on the door, turning to look at his old friends. "Oh, what the hell," he muttered. He shook his own hand, or rather, that of his younger self. "We spent all that time pretending to be old and wise, and then we were _you_. All racing around in Bessie and doing experiments. Can I say, Doctor, even though I didn't have the TARDIS, I loved being you. Here, look," the Doctor opened his overcoat. "Coloured linings? That's you." He grinned.

"To days yet to pass," the younger Doctor nodded, smiling, crossing his arms under his cape.

"Liz," the Doctor hugged her. "You are brilliant and don't ever let me tell you otherwise."

"Like that would happen," Liz said dryly, smirking.

"Brigadier!" His voice squeaked. The Brig raised an eyebrow. "Erhm, yes, well," the Doctor cleared his throat. A multitude of expression came over his face, too quickly to identify. The Doctor swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "Thank you. For everything. I never said when I was him, and, you were there when I needed you. Now, I might not have admitted it before, buuuuut," he scratched his neck, "well, anyway." The Brigadier extended his hand, smirking beneath his moustache. The Doctor, beaming, shook it heartily. "Oh, what the hell," he exclaimed, pulling the Brig in for a hug. "I might not like UNIT, but I could always count on you," he told the younger man.

He paused once more, hand on the TARDIS' door, before disappearing back into the time vortex.

1\. 1. Sting of the Zygons. The Last Dodo. Evolution of the Daleks.


	13. Kissing Jane

" _Jane Austen. Amazing writer, brilliant comic observer, and strictly amongst ourselves a phenomenal kisser." ~Clara Oswald, The Magician's Apprentice._

"Jane!" Clara laughed, pulling the other woman into a close hug.

"Clara," Jane Austen mimicked Clara's tone, "I did think that perhaps you would have remembered _not_ to embrace me the moment that you see me."

"Oh really? And why's that, then?" Clara flirted back easily, not relinquishing her hold.

"Because it makes it far too easy to do this," Jane's lips brushed Clara's, sliding over to peck the other woman's cheek.

"Is that all?" Clara murmured, staring down at Jane's lips. "Though there'd be a bit more passion in that, you being one of the greatest romance novelists of all time and all that. Use your imagination."

"Like _this_?" Jane whispered into Clara's ear, her breath hot and ragged. "You have _inspired_ me, Clara Oswald."

" _Really?_ " Clara pulled away slightly. "You're joking. Jane,"

"I only, how was it that you described, pull _practical_ gags, dear Clara." Jane quickly countered, eyes glinting. She finally looked away from the other woman, her mouth forming a small 'o' as a single droplet of rain splashed on her nose. "I do not believe that we shall make it back to the house before the rain begins."

"You know, I was starting to think the same thing," Clara agreed, taking Jane's hand in hers. "But it might be a bit drier in those trees, if we can make it."

They couldn't make it. Though the rain fell softly, it poured and the two women were quickly soaked to the skin.

"Now _here's_ something that I've always wanted to try," Clara said mischievously. Jane nodded for her to continue.

Clara kissed her. Jane froze for an instant, then moved her hand to cup the back of Clara's neck, leaning in to the kiss. Clara's hands ran up Jane's arms, resting on her back to pull her closer, deepening the kiss. She felt Jane's tongue cross her lips and she smiled, parting them. Jane kissed Clara, Clara responded. Both women's lips parted and they pressed their foreheads together, hands moving to softly caress the other's face.


End file.
